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A man can no more separate age and covetousness, than he can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the degrees prevent my curses. 5 — Boy!
Fal. What money is in my purse?
Page. Seven groats and two-pence.
Fal. I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse; borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.-Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this to the earl of Westmoreland; and this to old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin: About it; you know where to find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the one, or the other, plays the rogue with my great toe. It is no matter, if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable: A good wit will make use of any thing; I will turn diseases to commodity. [Exit.
York. A Room in the Archbishop's Palace.
Enter the Archbishop of York, the Lords HASTINGS, MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH.
Arch. Thus have you heard our cause, and known
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all,
-prevent my curses.] To prevent means, in this place, to
to commodity.] i. e. profit, self interest.
Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms;
How, in our means, we should advance ourselves
Hast. Our present musters grow upon the file
Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, standeth
Whether our present five and twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland.
Ay, marry, there's the point;
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is, we should not step too far
Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted.
Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, indeed,
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.
Bard. It was, my lord; who lin'd himself with hope,
Eating the air on promise of supply,
Flattering himself with project of a power
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts:
And so, with great imagination,
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,
And, winking, leap'd into destruction.
Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt,
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit,
That frosts will bite them.
When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model;
And when we see the figure of the house,
What do we then, but draw anew the model
To build at all? Much more, in this great work,
The plot of situation, and the model;
Like one, that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it; who, half through,
A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
Hast. Grant, that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth,) Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd The utmost man of expectation;
I think, we are a body strong enough,
Even as we are, to equal with the king.
Bard. What! is the king but five and twenty thousand?
Hast. To us, no more; nay, not so much, lord Bar
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
Are in three heads; one power against the French,'
7 Consent upon a sure foundation ;] i. e. agree.
8 one power against the French,] During this rebellion of Northumberland and the archbishop, a French army of twelve thousand men landed at Milford Haven, in Wales, for the aid of Owen Glendower. STEEVENS.
And one against Glendower; perforce, a third
In three divided; and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
Arch. That he should draw his several strengths together,
And come against us in full puissance,
Need not be dreaded.
If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh Baying him at the heels: never fear that.
Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces hither? Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland: Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Monmouth: But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I have no certain notice.
Let us on;
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice,
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited:
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
What trust is in these times?
They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head,
And take thou this! O thoughts of men accurst!
SCENE I.-London. A Street.
Enter Hostess; FANG, and his Boy, with her; and
Host. Master Fang, have you entered the action?
Host. Where is your yeoman?? Is it a lusty yeoman? will a' stand to't?
Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare!
Host. O lord, ay: good master Snare.
Snare. Here, here.
Fang. Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff.
Host. Yea, good master Snare; I have entered him and all.
Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab.
Host. Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabbed me in mine own house, and that most beastly: in good faith, a' cares not what mischief he doth, if his weapon be out he will foin like any devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.
Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.
Host. No, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow.
Fang. An I but fist him once; an a' come but within my vice1;
9- Where is your yeoman?] A bailiff's follower was, in our author's time, called a serjeant's yeoman.
1 —— an a' come but within my vice;] Vice or grasp; a metaphor taken from a smith's vice.